The Age of Misadventure

‘We can go inside to talk, but I’m telling you now, if you make a scene, I’ll call the police. We do this my way or not at all.’

The blood drains from his face and I breathe out slowly. He nods. His hand clutches a mobile phone. His knuckles are white. He looks at Bonnie.

‘Are you all right, love?’

She nods. I fumble for my keys and stare at him, then her.

‘She’s obviously not all right, Adie. You’ve cheated on her. It’s not acceptable …’ I shake my head. Not acceptable? It’s worse than that.

‘Bonnie, I’ve been so worried. I mean, all this fuss over a silly woman. It was nothing, I swear …’

He ignores me, standing with my hands on my hips, and rushes over to Bonnie, wrapping his arms around her. His fingers move to her wrist, over the gold charms on her bracelet, and back to her face. His shoulders are hunched and I can see the tension in his spine through his coat. Bonnie stands stiffly, gripping her handbag, her eyes reflecting her misery.

‘Come in, both of you.’ I sound like an ancient schoolmistress. ‘We have some things to talk about, don’t we?’

In the kitchen, we sit down. Adie takes off his coat, puts his phone next to him on the table and scans the screen, head bent. I make coffee. Bonnie sips from a mug, inhaling steam; she looks washed-out. I hand her a tissue and begin the conversation.

‘Right, Adie. What’s going on? It’d better be good.’

I bite my lip and stifle a smile. I could be a United Nations special envoy. But this is serious. Adie wipes his face with his hands. His brow furrows, sweat lodged in the deep seams.

‘Bonnie, I’m so sorry.’

I thump the table with my fist. ‘I’m sure you are, Adie. But it’s not the first time you’ve played away, is it?’

Bonnie looks from his face to mine and her expression is blank. He focuses on me.

‘I love her, Georgie. Other women don’t matter. I can’t be without her.’

I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. ‘How much did you love her when you had your arm round another woman last night?’ I notice Bonnie’s eyes start to fill up again.

He sighs. ‘There are some things happening in my life right now – things I can’t talk about.’

‘Philandering is not one of them.’ I sip coffee. ‘You have a lot of explaining to do. You won’t cheat on her again, Adie. I promise you that.’

He turns a glare on me and his eyes are bitter. ‘You’re just angry because Terry cheated on you. You don’t understand.’

I lean forwards and keep my gaze straight, my eyes boring into his. ‘Try me.’

He turns a tender gaze on Bonnie, reaches out and puts his hand over hers. Her face softens. He takes a deep breath.

‘I’m a businessman, Georgie. I make a lot of money so I can keep my wife in a plush house. We have nice things. But sometimes I have to take risks and—’

‘What does that have to do with other women?’ My voice booms like a politician, retaliating during Question Time. I’m taking no prisoners.

Bonnie’s holding his hand. He brings it to his lips. Suddenly, I’m terrified he’s winning her round.

‘It was a business party. There were all sorts of women there, you know. I had to fit in: it would have been rude not to. It’s all a bit difficult at the moment. I’m having some temporary cash flow problems. A client of mine is pressing for a deadline and I didn’t want to say no to hospitality and offend him. It’ll take me a week to sort out the funds but then it’ll be fine. It was just the once, a woman I’ll never see again. I don’t even remember her name.’

I face him, square on. ‘Bonnie’s your wife, Adie. You can’t just go with other women and pretend it doesn’t matter. It’s disrespectful to everyone. And it’s not the first time. Why do you think she left you just before Demi’s wedding?’

Bonnie winces but she’s still gazing at Adie. I look from her to his face – he’s staring at her, all apologies, pretending to be sorry, and her lip trembles as she whispers his name. Love is blind. And stupid.

He puts a thumb to her cheek, brushes the skin as if it’s delicate silk and sighs. ‘Bonnie, please forgive me. I’ll never look at another woman again. I promise.’

She sniffs and a tear rolls down her face, then another. He has her where he wants her.

He takes her face in his hands. ‘Let’s go away, you and me. Let’s take a long trip. Goa, Sri Lanka. Let’s go tomorrow, stay for three months. Georgie can keep an eye on things.’

I snort loudly. He doesn’t notice.

‘A second honeymoon. Just think – we could renew our vows. We could stay as long as we like. Away from this awful place. Just you and me. What do you say, Bonnie?’ He pauses and then goes in for the killer persuader line. ‘Bon-Bon?’

I open my eyes wide. Bon-Bon? The chair scrapes and Bonnie staggers to her feet, snuffles and runs away. I hear her gasp and sob.

Adie glances at me, his face full of loathing, and then he chases her down the steps to the reception level below.

I rub my hands across my face and through my hair. I long for a shower, a piece of toast. I squint at the clock. It’s half nine. I wonder if she’ll leave with him. I hope not. I remind myself that on Sunday I’ll go to Nanny Basham’s to make her lunch. Bonnie could stay here and we could go together.

Below, I can hear Adie’s voice talking, lilting with emphasis. There’s a brief pause, a soft whisper, so I assume she’s sobbing and then he starts again, all syrup and persuasion. I try to ignore them, breathe deeply, but instead I pick up a paper napkin and shred it between my fingers into a hundred pieces.

His phone is across the table. I glance towards where Bonnie and Adie have gone downstairs. There’s no one around, so I reach for it and flick it open. I know I shouldn’t, but I wonder how many other women he’s in contact with: his phone could have evidence of his philandering.

I check his most recent phone call – there are no details of a number, but he’s spoken to the same unidentified caller three times today and five times yesterday. I look back through his other calls. He’s tried to phone Bonnie a dozen times, more. Then I notice he has an unopened text, and I press the button and catch my breath. There it is, the photo of Bonnie and me and the man, Duncan Beddowes, taken in Adie’s office. Bonnie’s posing, smiling for the camera, and my face is twisted in annoyance. Just below it, the message reads: I never make empty threats. The phone nearly slips from my fingers.

I hear voices becoming louder, Adie’s protesting and Bonnie’s petulant tones. I thrust the phone to the other side of the table and start to play with the shredded napkin, sip cold coffee. The happy couple appear, holding hands, Adie cheerful again, Bonnie looking sad. She can’t meet my eyes. Adie’s smirking, triumphant. He speaks first.

‘We’re going home now.’

‘Bonnie?’ I stare at her. ‘Bon, are you sure?’ She shakes her head, nods and shrugs. I stand. ‘I want you to ring me later, Bonnie.’ I stare at Adie, who’s wrapped an arm round her and is now helping her into her coat, a true gentleman. ‘Seriously, Adie. I want to know she’s all right.’

He lifts his coat, turns his back and points her towards the stairs. ‘You don’t need to worry, Georgie. But thanks for your help. We’re all fine now.’

He’s eradicated his infidelity in one sentence. I glare at him. He remembers his phone, scoops it from the table and pushes it in a pocket. Bonnie looks over her shoulder as she’s ushered away.

‘Georgie, I …’

‘Ring me.’

He steers her down the stairs and the last thing I see is her staring over her shoulder, a round-eyed gaze and smudged make-up. I breathe in and out like a seething dog and clench my fists. An image is soaking into the screen of my mind and words follow: the picture of Bonnie and me either side of a man we don’t know and the warning underneath: Remember …

Adie’smade a very real enemy and he’s definitely in trouble above his head. I wonder what sort of corrupt business he’s involved in. A shiver goes through me, from my shoulders right down to my toes.

Chapter Six (#ulink_7063847b-ef88-50cc-b1bc-716712797f45)

The next day, Nanny’s surprisingly quiet during my visit. She picks at her roast dinner for one and leaves most of it on the side of her plate. When she gazes at the television, she hardly hears me talking to her. I sit on the rug, snuggle against her knees and gaze up at her as she sips the last of her beer. The music booms and a smooth voice proclaims today’s news headlines. There’s a politician who’s in trouble. He’s made a crass remark and other politicians are calling him a buffoon and demanding that he resign. A woman from some fiscal group at a university talks about 3 per cent inflation, how prices are going up, and that it’s going to be a hard summer for investors. Nanny tuts.

Then the local news: the screen moves to a street I recognise in Norris Green. A man’s voice narrates that the police have staged a big coup to do with money laundering in which a large amount of cash was involved: the first man was arrested in what’s expected to be a sequence of arrests. I stare at the screen, at a plastic door with no lights on inside. I remember the same view from Adie’s Boxster. An old pair of trainers hangs from the telegraph wire. It’s the same house.